


third time this month

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Bruises, Gen, Microfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pale yellow light makes the forming bruise around his eye an especially ugly color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	third time this month

**Author's Note:**

> i dont think alex got away so easily after abandoning marble hornets, he seemed pretty ok when amy was filming him (before he noticed he was being filmed) but he'd still gotten rid of the tapes a while before then, so...
> 
> also, i headcanon jessica as having a somewhat similar experience with mental illness and medication as tim, may or not may include operator involvement, so she feels like her and alex are in the same boat. ok thats all im done rambling

His left eye is swollen, puffy and red in the places where it's usually purple and creased, and blood trickles from his nose.

He holds the shards of his crushed glasses in one hand and the broken frames in the other.

“Alex? Oh my G-”

“Don't.” He brushes by her and through the doorway. “Don't wake up Amy.”

“What happened?”

He clenches the hand with the glass. She can hear it crunching.

“I said, don't.”

He starts in the direction of the bathroom, but he teeters and almost topples over. Jessica reaches out a hand to him, and he puts up his hands to stop her. Pieces of glass fall to the floor, and he glares at her until she backs up.

Once he gets into the bathroom, she hears the sound of running water and coughing.

“Alex?” she calls out.

She hears the cabinet opening and bottles being jostled through. He'd have to go through the trash can in Jessica's room to find the ibuprofen, and, even then, he'd just have an empty bottle to hold on to.

“That's the third time this month.”

He doesn't answer.

“I could run down to the store and get you more bandages. And we're out of pain killers.” He stops going through the cabinet. “Amy had a headache today, used the last ones.”

He steps halfway out of the bathroom, hand on the wall. There's faint smears of blood under where a tissue is stuffed in his nose. The pale yellow light makes the forming bruise around his eye an especially ugly color.

“Just get into fights a lot. You know my temper,” he says.

They both know they're lying.


End file.
